Give Me Love
by fancykidx
Summary: Kurt is a Cupid: someone who causes people to fall in love through the use of his arrow. Blaine is the psychiatrist trying to figure out why someone whose purpose is to spread love would stab himself with one of his own arrows.
1. Prologue

**Title**: Give Me Love  
**Rating**: R for now  
**Pairings**: Kurt/Blaine  
**Warnings** (if any): attempted suicide, depression, violence in later chapters  
**Word Count**: 670/?  
**Summary**: Kurt is a Cupid: someone who causes people to fall in love through the use of his arrow. Blaine is the psychiatrist trying to figure out why someone whose purpose is to spread love would stab himself with one of his own arrows.  
**A/N: **It's been awhile, hasn't it? This story is based off of the music video for Ed Sheeran's "Give Me Love" - the song is my favorite by him, and the music video is even more beautiful. I'm horrible at multi-part stories, but I promise, I will try my hardest to keep up with this one.

/

Kurt hears them before he sees them.

"It's 3F, right?" One of them says, his voice deep and rough. "That's what the call said?"

"Nah, 3D," says the other, his voice much smoother.

_It's comforting_, Kurt thinks. _It sounds like one of the voices you would hear on an infomercial trying to get you to buy something._ He tries to laugh but ends up gasping, a sharp pain in his chest. He closes his eyes, taking a few shallow breaths to ease the hurt. He didn't think it would hurt this much. How is this hurting so much?

There's a knock on the door. Kurt stays silent, his eyes still screwed up in pain.

Another knock. "This is the police," Rough Voice says. Kurt fights the urge to ask for Smooth Voice instead. "There's been a noise complaint? Your neighbor said she heard some screaming, some glass breaking?"

Kurt thinks to himself. Screaming? When was he screaming? He turns his head to the door, but his eyes catch on the shards of glass glittering the floor a few feet away from him. Oh, yeah. Right before he shoved his mirror to the ground.

"Is there anyone in there?" Smooth Voice says.

"Yes," Kurt says without even thinking. That voice just _does_ something to him.

"Open this door up," says Rough Voice, and Kurt frowns. That's not very nice. He could be nicer about it. _Now I'm not going to let him in. I don't like rude people. Bring back Smooth Voice. I bet he would say 'please'._

"Hello?" Kurt suddenly realizes his eyes had been drifting closed over the past few seconds. He tries to open them again, but he can't – he's so sleepy.

"Sir? If you won't open this door, we'll have to open it ourselves."

Sleepy.

"Sir?"

So sleepy.

"Damn it, Allen, just bust it open."

Kurt's almost asleep when he hears the crashing noise, the wood of the door splintering as it's kicked in. The shock of it makes him open his eyes, but there's a black fog creeping into his vision and he knows he's not going to be able to stay awake much longer.

"_Shit,_" he hears, and then there's someone's hand lightly slapping him on the face.

"Go 'way," he croaks out. "Sleepy."

"Shit," he hears again, and then there's a static noise before: "We need an ambulance at the Osprey Apartments on 52nd and 7th. _Immediately_."

"Kid?" The hand won't stop slapping him. It's starting to get annoying. "Kid, where did you get this arrow from?"

"Mmm… mine," he breathes out. He feels his mind shutting down as he dances between the edge of conscious and unconscious.

"Stay awake," Smooth Voice says. "Stay awake, kid, come on-"

"_Sleepy,"_ Kurt whines, but tries to stay awake. Smooth Voice told him to. But it's hard, and he doesn't think he'll be able to.

"He's gotta be a Cupid," Rough Voice says in awe. "How else would he have that?"

"Hey kid," And the slapping is back. Kurt tries to lift his hand to stop it but his body doesn't seem to be cooperating. "Did you do this to yourself?"

"Mmmm," Kurt whispers. Why won't they just let him sleep?

"Aren't they supposed to go away? Aren't the arrows not supposed to still be there when someone's hit?"

"Kid, you've gotta stay awake, alright? The ambulance is coming for you, just keep your eyes open for a few more minutes."

"No," Kurt whines petulantly. "'M sleepy."

"He's a Cupid." Rough Voice sounds like he's going to lose it. "I've never seen one in real life before."

"Yeah, well, you don't know that, they don't exactly broadcast themselves to the world, now do they?"

"No fight," Kurt says, because _no._ They're not going to fight if he's here.

"No, no fighting," Smooth Voice says. "What's your name, kid?"

"Kurt. … Sleep now."

"No! No, kid, Kurt, stay awake – "

The last thing he hears is the sound of sirens blaring from the street outside his window.


	2. Chapter 1

**Title**: Give Me Love  
**Rating**: R for now  
**Pairings**: Kurt/Blaine  
**Warnings (if any):** attempted suicide, depression, violence in later chapters  
**Word Count:** this chapter: approx. 1800 words  
**Summary**: Kurt is a Cupid: someone who causes people to fall in love through the use of his arrow. Blaine is the psychiatrist trying to figure out why someone whose purpose is to spread love would stab himself with one of his own arrows.

/

The first time Blaine ever heard of Cupids was in his 7th grade Health Class, interwoven in the discussion about sex.

(Yes, it was as mortifying as it seems.)

Mrs. Attlebery had just started talking about "abstinence" and "waiting for marriage" – Blaine did go to a Catholic school, after all – when Kyle Walker shouted from the back of the classroom, "what if a Cupid shoots you? Does that mean you can '_do it'?"_

There were giggles from some of the girls, but mostly everyone looked at the teacher in confusion. Flustered, she responded, "No, Kyle – for one thing, Cupids are just a myth, and for another, even if they shot you and you fall in love, it's not as binding of a contract as marriage would be. A Cupid is only supposed to enhance whatever feelings a person might already have, and legend says that a person can be hit with an arrow more than once."

"What's a Cupid?" someone asks, and Blaine is glad that he's not the only one who's lost, here.

"A Cupid is – supposedly – a person that has the ability to _feel_ feelings of attraction in people, and is able to shoot them with an arrow to make them fall in love. In ancient times, Cupids were regarded as equal to the gods – there are people today that still believe in Cupids. But class, there's no proof of their existence, so don't put too much stock into them. They're just a myth."

Of course, two years later, a man named Adam Furtado made headlines for a 27 second long video he shot during his family's vacation to Walt Disney World in Florida.

The footage was a complete accident: the main focus was Adam's daughter, who he was filming eating a giant turkey leg for the first time. But in the background, he noticed something thin and long flying through the air. Swinging the focus to follow it, the object hit a woman sitting on a bench not too far from them. Before Adam could say much more than a shocked _"oh my – " _–

The arrow had disappeared, vanished in a haze of smoke, and Adam was left focusing in on the woman leaning in to kiss the man she had shyly been holding hands with previously.

The media went crazy. No one knew where the arrow came from, and the woman in question stated that she didn't even feel a thing. But the fact remained that _Cupids_, which had previously been dismissed as an ancient legend, were now being sought out by news anchors and scientists all over the world.

Except none came forward. For whatever reason – probably because they did not want to be hounded by people attempting to force their crushes to love them back – the Cupids that existed in the world did not make themselves known, instead integrating themselves with the rest of society. In fact, the only reason why people still believed in Cupids is the continuous video footage that followed in the years after: countless people would be in the background of shots, getting shot by disappearing arrows, and yet the Cupid responsible would never be seen.

Until now, Blaine had never seen – or knowingly seen, at least – a Cupid in real life. And now he was about to have one in his office for the next 45 minutes.

_Get a grip on yourself, Anderson_, he thought, after he knocked his penholder over for the third time that day. He opened up the file of _Hummel, Kurt_ for the hundredth time that day, rereading what he had already memorized by heart.

_Hummel, Kurt. 25 years old. 3D, Osprey Apartments on 52__nd__ and 7__th__. Attempted suicide with an arrow to the chest. No previous recorded history of depression or anxiety._

And finally, the word that's been causing him to be flustered all morning: _Cupid._

It's not that he's planning on using the Cupid's powers, or anything. That would be disgusting and taking advantage of someone who's already down, and Blaine's not a jerk.

But… it's a _Cupid._ The only definite Cupid in existence. The police officers and hospital personnel had been sworn to secrecy, forced to sign contracts in order to keep Kurt's identity secret from the media. Even when Blaine was approached to be Kurt's therapist, he underwent severe background checks and signed numerous contracts before Kurt was added to his list of patients.

It's not even like he's allowed to talk about this with anyone, either; no one else in the building knew anything about Kurt except that he had attempted suicide four weeks before. To the other psychiatrists in the building, Blaine was just hyped up on the three cups of coffee he had had earlier. No one knew the extent of his nerves.

"Doctor Anderson?" Blaine jumped in his seat, his hand shooting out and knocking over the penholder again. _Crap. _He pressed the speaker button on the office telephone while he hurriedly picked up the pens now scattered across his desk (for the _fourth_ time today, Jesus _Christ_…).

"Y-yes?" he stuttered out, clearing his throat as he attempted to make himself sound less rattled than he actually was.

"Kurt Hummel is here for his 2 o'clock appointment. Shall I send him in?"

"Yes please! Thank you, Molly. " Blaine sat down in his chair, smoothing a hand over his hair and wiping his sweaty palms on the legs of his pants as he attempted to calm himself down. _Just a patient, just a patient, just a patient – _

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in!" He called out, then cursed to himself when his voice came out slightly more high pitched than he usually speaks. He took a deep breath.

The man walked in hesitantly, his eyes roaming briefly around the room before settling on Blaine.

Blaine smiled. _Professional, Blaine, stay professional._ "Good afternoon, Mr. Hummel. Please take a seat." He gestured to the chair sitting in front of his desk.

Kurt moved gracefully to the seat, his curious eyes darting quickly around at all of the objects: the bookcase crammed full of books, the comfy looking couch in the corner of the room, the snow globe sitting on the corner of the desk. Blaine watched him carefully, waiting for Kurt to say something.

Kurt stared back at him, everything about his posture screaming his discomfort. He coughed, then winced as the force of his cough jostled his chest injury.

Blaine chuckled. "Don't be so nervous, Mr. Hummel." _I'm plenty nervous for the both of us._

"Right. I'm sorry." Kurt said quietly, enunciating each syllable. He fidgeted uncomfortably. "Good afternoon." His expression was smooth, unreadable.

Blaine folded his hands carefully in front of him on the desk, keeping the pleasant smile on his face. If there's anything he's learned in his years as a psychiatrist, it's that his patients are more likely to feel at ease if he himself appeared so. "Do you remember my name?"

"Mr. Anderson," Kurt replied. He folded his hands in his lap. "_Doctor_ Anderson, sorry."

"You can call me Blaine, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said kindly. "Doctor Anderson makes me sound like an old man that eats cabbage every day."

Blaine watched as Kurt's eyes flashed, a hint of amusement creeping onto his face, before the smooth, unperturbed expression he wore previously took over. "Then you can call me Kurt. Mr. Hummel sounds like a man that owns a doll collection."

Blaine laughed out loud. "Witty." Kurt flashed a small smile before it was gone again. Blaine watched him carefully for a few seconds, and then – closed his notebook. Kurt delicately raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. "How are you right now, Kurt?"

"I'm… fine?"

Blaine smiled. "I meant right at this very moment. Uncomfortable? Nervous? Scared?"

"… Is all of the above an option?"

"Don't be." Blaine leaned forward slowly, as if he were trying not to frighten a small animal. "It's normal to be nervous or uncomfortable, and even more normal to be scared. But I promise you, you have nothing to be scared of. Whatever is said in this room, stays in this room. You know that, right?"

Kurt's demeanor changed, and while before he sat calmly, now there was a bit of an edge in his posture and voice. "With all due respect, Blaine, I'm not going to be telling you anything."

Blaine tilted his head to the side, curious. "Oh?"

"Yes. I'm perfectly fine. Everyone's overreacting. I wasn't planning on coming, anyway, but my brother forced me to."

Blaine leaned back in his chair, picking up Kurt's file and pretending to read from it, because no _way_ was he going to admit that he had already memorized the thing. "It says here that you were found with your own arrow in your chest? And that the police officer on the scene said that you told him you did it yourself?"

Kurt's eyes narrowed. He said nothing.

"That doesn't sound like you're fine, Kurt. It sounds like you're struggling with something. Now, I'm not going to claim I'm an expert on your life. I don't know you, and I especially don't know what it's like to be a Cupid. But all I want to do is help you, and if you'll let me, I'll do my best."

Kurt remained silent, but he folded his arms tightly, his body tightening with suppressed anger and annoyance.

Blaine smiled pleasantly, choosing not to push. He closed Kurt's file and placed it carefully into the desk's top drawer before folding his hands again. "Alright then, Kurt. If you've made up your mind on this. You _are _supposed to be having weekly sessions for the next two months, but if you don't want to talk, I'm not going to force you to. We can do something else."

Blaine opened his notebook again, and then took two pens out of his penholder, offering one to Kurt. He took it suspiciously.

Blaine quickly opened his notebook to a fresh page and drew something on it before passing it to Kurt.

Blaine watched as Kurt's face turned from confusion and suspicion to surprised before finally settling on incredulous amusement. On the page was a tic-tac-toe board, with an '_X'_ in the top left corner.

"Seriously?" Kurt asks, a smile finding its way to his face.

Blaine shrugged, but his eyes danced as he watched Kurt carefully mark an _'O'_ in the middle box. "Like I said, if you don't want to talk to me, we don't have to talk. But if you _do_, if you're _ready_, whatever is said in here, stays here. Like Vegas. but hopefully without the shotgun weddings."

Blaine drew an _'X'_ in the bottom right corner of the grid, bighting back a smile as he listened to the helpless giggle falling from Kurt's lips.


End file.
